Question
by pineapple desu
Summary: Antonio had the stupidest questions sometimes.  High school AU.  Hint of Spamano.


"Lovi~"

"No."

"_Por favor_~?"

"Go away."

Antonio had been bothering Lovino for quite some time, endeavoring to ask him a question. Lovino would not relent; Antonio's questions morphed into small talk and then random things, and it would never _end_. Lovino would not like to have his ears bleeding by the time Antonio left to go home, thank you very much. He was very attached to those things, you know—in more ways than one.

Lovino resisted the urge to bang his head on the table he was currently sitting at. Antonio had been bugging him for what seemed like hours, and he didn't even get the hint when Lovino pulled out his homework and started doing it right in front of him. He'd been hoping Antonio would shut up—why did he tolerate that idiot, again?—but, as it was Antonio, his wish wasn't granted, and, actually, was likely to never be. "Go ask Feliciano."

"I'm asking you," Antonio reminded him, as if Lovino was insane for suggesting he go question someone else. He seemed to take it as a sign the southern Italian would listen, however, and began, "So you know—"

"Shut up," Lovino interrupted.

"Come on," the Spaniard whined, walking over to drape his arms around Lovino. The younger teenager tried to squirm out of his grasp to no avail. "_Por favor_? I really need to know... I'll love you forever~"

Lovino gave up trying to escape, and settled against the back of his chair with a pout. "Go screw yourself," he said sulkily. It was as much as a "go ahead" as he was ever likely to give.

Antonio's chin rested on the top of his head. "You know how in some books, they say that the male kisses every part of the woman he can?" he asked, retracting his arms so his hands simply lay on his friend's shoulders. "Does that mean he kisses her armpits?"

Lovino opened his mouth to tell him off. Then he realized what Antonio had inquired, and shut his mouth. He mulled over it, trying to ignore the hands now gently massaging his admittedly tense shoulders. It was actually a good question, when you considered who, exactly, was asking it. It made more sense than his last. "Yes," he finally replied.

Antonio made a face. "That's gross," he informed Lovino frankly, ceasing his massage, much to Lovino's relief and irritation. "Who kisses someone's _armpits_?"

"People in books?" Lovino guessed disinterestedly.

"It's _gross_," Antonio reiterated.

Lovino shrugged. "I'm not the one kissing armpits."

"That's true." Antonio paused, thinking. "Would you?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Not even if I loved that person enough to give up tomatoes."

Well, that was a lot of love. At least he wouldn't have to worry about his best friend forever contracting some sort of disease from kissing anyone's armpits.

"Actually," Lovino continued thoughtfully, "now, I bet there's some weird fucker out there that has a fetish for that."

There goes the thought of relaxing. Antonio shuddered in disgust. "Gross," he repeated for the third time. "There's probably someone out there that has a fetish for feisty southern Italians that almost worships tomatoes."

"You practically worship them, too," Lovino retorted. "There's someone out there with a fetish for stupid Spaniards that loves anything cute." He paused. "And possibly Italians."

"Are you implying something?"

Antonio's tone betrayed nothing but curiosity, but Lovino stiffened anyway, mindful of the meaning his words could have. "You act like Feliciano's the cutest thing ever, and you coo when he uses Italian words. COO. There is no fucking way you don't love Italians when you react like that. And everyone loves Italians after they meet Feliciano."

The older man laughed. "Fair enough." He pulled away from Lovino, and the shorter brunet turned his chair in time to see him pick up his bookbag. "I need to get home," Antonio explained with a smile, catching Lovino's surprised expression. "My brother's coming home tonight, so I need to clean some stuff out of his room before he comes." He winked and blew an exaggerated kiss at Lovino. "See you tomorrow, _querido_~"

"Fuck off," Lovino huffed, his cheeks warming. Stupid Antonio.

Said male laughed again and left the room, leaving Lovino irritated and a little uneasy.

Well. Antonio was stupid, and was obviously oblivious to the signals he was tossing at Lovino. The Italian twisted his seat back around, frowning. Whatever. He needed to finish his homework. Goddamn Algebra II.


End file.
